"Fill your paper with the breathings of your own heart." William Wordsworth

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Where Did February Go?

Somehow, it’s the last day of February, and I have no clue how this happened. I made a prediction this month would be pretty productive.

Yeah, it wasn’t.

I guess I should say, I wasn’t. It’s not February’s fault. I can’t blame it for being short. I can’t blame its confusing one-day-summer, one-day-winter weather.

I could blame Netflix. And I will. I was binge-watching Friday Night Lights and Bates Motel. It’s the whole Netflix trap, that little countdown that takes you right into the next episode. The seconds tick by and I’m trying to decide if I should go do something or watch the next episode. By the time I’ve decided, the next one has already started and it doesn’t seem right to turn it off. Netflix knows what’s up. Sly devils.

What I had planned to do was query like crazy, really go forth and conquer, you know? No more overthinking and obsessing over every single word and just send the blasted thing out there.

But I’m second guessing (more like seventy-third guessing) and I feel like I’m taking steps I’m not ready to take. Which is CRAZY. And I know this. But I can’t help it. Good Lord, I know I’m not rushing into anything, by definition, but rushing into this stage in particular is dangerous. It’s not like you can query an agent, he/she turns you down, you make some revisions, and send it again. No. You only get one shot. At least that’s what Eminem says.

So I’m reading over my life’s work–that’s what my book is starting to feel like to me–and I’m losing the confidence I once had in it. I’m seeing things that I was blind to before or hoped work, but actually don’t. In the end, it’s for the best, but right now, it’s a bit overwhelming. And frankly annoying, to tell you the truth.

Despite the pity party whine fest of this post, what I haven’t lost is my determination to see this project through. I just get discouraged with the timing and the false progress, that’s all.